The Past - 4/29/07

Originally written 4/29/07:

Most of the time, I don't want to be anywhere doing anything. I want to ignore and sleep and fade away and disappear. And I don't want to tell anyone I feel this way because they'll make me stop. (Maybe that's why I don't tell my therapist any of this.) No one would understand anyway, even if I did tell them how I feel. They'd only want to "fix" it and fix me. Fuck that. I don't need fixing. I need time.

I want to crawl into my hole until I'm ready to come out. In my own way and on my own terms.

I want to sleep until I can wake up without something hurting. I want to be left alone until it's my choice not to be alone.

I'm just so tired. So tired.
__________________________________________

Entry later that day/night (not sure):

"Every SECOND, the US burns nearly 4,000 gallons of gasoline. Almost 1/2 the WORLD'S production." I just heard that on tv. [ed. note: I didn't mention what I was watching, but something on Discovery or Natl. Geo. Channel, I'm sure.]

I wonder if that's true?

The Past - 4/22/07

Originally written 4/22/07

[editor's note...I was completely drunk when I wrote this...]

I never feel like writing. Partiall because writing by hand is a royal pain in the ass. Partially because it's easier to just ignore what I think and how I feel than it is to write about it and have to consider what's in my head.

It's almost ironic, if you think about it...most people drink to numb everything. To ignore, to forget, to fade away from life...but it's the very opposite for me. When I'm drunk, all my emotions come out - the ones I have to mask in order to function at work every day. When I'm drunk, my mind opens and I drop the walls and the guard and I FEEL. I cry. A LOT of crying. I am sad and angry and totally affected in every possible way about Vin's death.

He left me. He took himself away. WHY? Why him? Why me??

I KNOW!!! I know it's random in a non-random way. I understand how God fits into all of this and it's not God I'm angry with. I know this is the way it is. It's all just a little too complex for me.

That's harder to accept than any other part or aspect of any of it.

I'm slowing down on my drinking. [ed. note: She said as she took another shot.] I've been the equivalent of an alcoholic for the last few months. My peak has come over the last few weeks - it escalated to 6-7 nights a week - drunk. DRUNK. It's become an addiction. An obsession. And I refuse to tell anyone - ANYONE - just how much or how often I drink. No one. Because I'm not ready to end it and because I TRULY believe I am still in control of this. I will know when I am not.

And yes, I do realize this is addict behavior. I'm okay with that right now. I'll be done drinking when I'm ready to be done drinking. And that's that.

The Past: 3/28/07

Originally written 3/28/07:

So I've been ignoring things for a few weeks. Ignoring myself and how I feel, especially.

If someone could just explain why Chris is fucking me over for $750 right now, that might help.

Phoebe is finally in the hospital and it's a huge relief. SHe's a fuckign mess and the hospital may be her only hope. It's either that or she's gonna fucking die.

I hate that my mom is so sick. I hate that she's miserable and throwing up from chemo and I feel like there's nothing I can do.

Maybe my lesson from God in this life is to learn about loss and love.

I am so fucking angry right now! I can't believe Chris is choosing over 10 years of love and friendship over $750!! FUCK!! I could give a shit about the money; it's the principle of the matter. It's the fact that she's lying to me and has no intention of paying me and I'm 90% sure ALL of this revolves around the new "love of her life." Whatever. Fuck that and fuck her.
________________________________________________________

2/12/07

Okay - the long story short version of why Chris owed me $750 - we were roomies, decided apartment living sucked, found a house to rent. Moved in Feb. 2006; by summer things went to shit. I moved out Labor Day weekend. (That's in September, for those who get 'Memorial Day' and 'Labor Day' mixed up.) Her new girlfriend, Dee, moved in. Dee didn't have the money for the damage deposit, so I told them they could use my damage deposit money (that I would have been refunded) and they said they'd pay me back when they filed taxes in January because they both get refunds. That's $600 right there, which, after *another* fight, they ended up paying me back. (Part of my anger about the whole damn thing is that in the time she owed me this money, they took a trip to Vegas AND Chris bought Dee this HUGE engagement ring, so yeah, I was fucken pissed.)

The other $150 I'll never see again. I had given her money to pay one of the last energy bills. When I got the final bill, it showed she'd never paid the second to last bill - when I talked to her about it, she told me a bunch of lies and then told me she'd pay me her half of everything - which, without getting into a bunch of math here, is $150.

We didn't speak for like 6 months, then out of the blue she texts me and again - long story short because who the fuck really cares - we're back on speaking terms but barely. She is pretending the money thing doesn't exist and is avoiding having 'the talk' about just what all the fuck went down and how we ended up on barely speaking terms and until she's ready to TALK, then I just don't give a fuck.

Now, the Pheobe going to the hospital thing. Back in this post I explained some of Pheobe's crazy health shit. For the sake of brevity, let's just say things went from bad, to worse, to holy-shit-get-your-depressed-no-longer-functioning-like-a-human-being-ass to the motherfucken hospital already. Sadly, it didn't help much. But, I'm not in the mood to get all into Pheobe and her fucked up health shit - I've basically taken the stance that if she refuses to do anything to help herself, I can't help her and I'm done trying. I'm done making her problems my own. I've decided (finally...HELLO) to clean up the shit in my own backyard for a change.

After all the 'catching up on the good old days' posts, I'll actually catch up on what's going on in my life NOW.

The Past: 3/7/07

Originally written 3/7/07:

There are no words to describe the void you [Vin] left in my life. I miss so many things about you an dthe role you played in my life - it's impossible to put it down on paper. I need you more than I ever could have imagined. My heart aches for you in ways I will never be able to describe.

I HURT.

The Past: 3/5/07

Originally written 3/15/07:

You know, journal [blog, now], I can't be honest with anyone but you.

All I want to do is eat and drink. To excess. Every day. All the time.

I love eating things that taste great and clog my arteries. And I definitely LOVE getting drunk. If I thought I could get away with it, I'd go to work drunk. Hell, I'd be a lot more pleasant if I showed up to work drunk, that's for sure.

Drunk...is the only time I really FEEL. The only way I can cry is when I'm drunk. When I'm not drunk, I have to put on the "I'm okay" face and even when I'm alone, I'm still somehow in that mode.

I don't know why Vin left me. I will never know why. I only know that nothing is right when he's gone. Nothing.

I. am. lost.

Please don't let my mom die right now. I need her.
______________________________________________________

2/11/08

Okay that last thing about my mom probably doesn't make sense, so here's the scoop. Well, I'll back up for a sec so I can give you the whole picture.

In December (2007), my Grandpa died - my last living grandparent. If I'm being honest, it wasn't all that upsetting to me. Long story made short because I just don't care enough to bother - he was a dick. But it upset my mom; it was her dad.

We had to wait to bury him because he was being buried at the National Cemetery because he was a Vet, which ended up being in January. After the ceremony at the cemetery, we went to lunch and my mom told the family she has breast cancer. In February (2007) she had a mastectomy, followed by chemo, followed by radiation. She's doing quite well now, but I was pretty worried for a time there. We've never been terribly close, so for me to say "I need her" isn't really true...I just needed her not to die.

Also in January (2007), my cat died. Then two days later my brother left for basic training, leaving me alone in the house for about 4 months. That's when my drinking REALLY took off.

The Past: 2/14/07

Originally written 2/14/07:

If it were up to me, no one would recognize this stupid fucking day as a holiday. Valentine's Day. It's a day, just like any other. But somehow, we're forced to participate in the stupidity that has become a day recognized for love. Like single people need MORE of a reminder just how single they are. Or people in love need to be reminded to tell the person they're with how much they love them - with GIFTS. Fuck this stupid day - and I've said "fuck this stupid day" even when I've been in relationships, so I'm not being unfair here. It's fucking retarded and we all know it and still we cave in to Hallmark and jewelry stores and florists who charge three times as much for roses than any other day of the year. It's a sham, people, and I'm not the first to say as much.

If you need a fucking calendar and a Hallmark store to tell you when to do something special for the person you love, you need serious fucking help.

The Past: 2/13/07

As promised, entries from my handwritten journal. The title represents the date I originally wrote what I'm posting now.

2/13/07

Sometimes I feel like I might start crying and never stop.

I am so sad Vin is gone. I'm hurt and angry and sad and I miss him every day. It hurts me on a crazy-deep level. I feel sometimes as if his suicide was a reflection on me not being good enough. If I had just been a better friend, a better girlfriend (back when we were dating), smarter, prettier...a better person...maybe...

I am learning that ther are things I take too personally. More personally than is appropriate or necessary. It's hard to learn to see it differently, but I know I need to - I know I should. Or I may not survive this.